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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28501284">So, I Died</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tylanoid/pseuds/Tylanoid'>Tylanoid</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Magnus Chase and the Gods of Asgard - Rick Riordan, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Kane Chronicles - Rick Riordan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F, F/M, M/M, Rick Riordan Demigod Universe | Riordanverse</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 18:00:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,483</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28501284</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tylanoid/pseuds/Tylanoid</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>So, that prophecy that implied I would defeat Voldemort? Verrrry misleading. Turns out I was pretty easy for him to kill, actually. Bit of a bummer, but shit happens, I guess. It was probably for the best. After all, who ever said that death is where the story ends?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson, Anubis/Sadie Kane, Calypso/Leo Valdez, Carter Kane/Zia Rashid, Magnus Chase/Alex Fierro, Nico di Angelo/Will Solace</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>49</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>So, I Died</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <strong>WARNING: Yes it's tagged under HP/Percy Jackson, but its more like HP/Riordanverse. The start leans very heavy on Magnus Chase, so if you don't want Magnus Chase spoilers I'd get outta here now. PJ series will feature very heavily too, just not quite yet. Happy reading!</strong>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>Chapter One - Valhalla Reminds Me of the Movie 300</strong>
</p>
<p>My name is Harry Potter, and I remember exactly what I was thinking when I died.</p>
<p>
  <em>So much for being the chosen one…</em>
</p>
<p>Strange, isn't it? There was no sequence of life's greatest hits playing through my head, and no desperate mental goodbyes or apologies to my loved ones. Just a flash of green and me hitting the ground, dead as a doornail. Not exactly the spiritual end that people describe, right?</p>
<p>'<em>Neither can live while the other survives.' </em>Well, the prophecy sure as hell got that right. Voldemort had barely been back in his body five minutes before he was snuffing me out like a candle on a birthday cake.</p>
<p>In hindsight, I really don't know what I was thinking back in the graveyard. Maybe I was running on high from the maze or something, but it was still perhaps a <em>little</em> stupid of me to duel a guy so outrageously powerful and evil that people were afraid to even say his name. But impulsiveness is in my nature, and I did manage to save Cedric in the process of my idiotic dying heroics. Hooray for me!</p>
<p>Maybe I shouldn't be so sarcastic about that part. After all, it's the only reason that death wasn't quite the end for me. Who would've thought that all it would take for life to go on (as a dead guy, technically) would be for me to die heroically with a weapon in my hand? Really, that was the most important part of it all. No weapon in hand on death: no dice. If I never had my wand, and Cedric wasn't there, I would've gone straight to the underworld, or Helheim, maybe. Yes, I don't know which—cut me some slack; the afterlife is complicated.</p>
<p>Looking back, it's kind of funny that I thought my life was strange when I was still alive. When I was eleven, I got told I was a wizard by a half-giant with more facial hair than bigfoot himself. Not too long after, I had to fight a man who had a face growing out the back of his head. Then, I faced down a giant snake with a death stare that could legitimately kill you. Worse even still was trying to fight off a horde of what are basically just floating skeletons of contagious depression wrapped in ratty, black snuggies. Yet, I can honestly say what happened <em>after</em> my death makes these events look downright pedestrian.</p>
<p>You might think, 'but Harry, all of that sounds pretty weird.'</p>
<p>Well, maybe so, but compared to what happened after? Pah. If you ask me, I'd say just the fact that my story didn't end with my death should tell you how weird things became. Either way, that's where the real story starts.</p>
<p>So, that's where I should begin, right? I died.</p>
<p>I know, I know, I've said it a bunch of times already. The thing is, though, I'm still not quite sure if you believe me. I reckon you're probably thinking 'but no, Harry, how could you have died?' No doubt you think I had a close call, and just narrowly escaped, or got resuscitated after.</p>
<p>Well, that's not the case. I died one hundred percent. Boy-who-lived or no, I would not survive the killing curse a second time. I'm kind of glad for it, really. Not the dying part—that part sucks—but the killing curse is a good way to go. No pain, no suffering—just whammy! Then you're dead.</p>
<p>So, yeah, I died… and then I woke up.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>I sat up with a sharp gasp, the green flash of the killing curse still seared into my retinas like a sunspot. I spun frantically on the spot, looking for any sign of Voldemort or his Death-Eaters. My breath hitched. They were nowhere to be found, nor was the Graveyard, Cedric's body or the bubbling back cauldron that had resurrected Tom Riddle into a terrifying, noseless snake-man.</p>
<p>I let out an audible sigh and pinched the bridge of my nose. It took a few blinks to adjust my eyes to the light, but as soon as my vision lost its blur I immediately looked down, expecting to find the deep cut on my forearm where Peter Pettigrew had sliced me open to add my blood to his bring-back-Tom juice.</p>
<p>My arm was completely unmarred. The lack of it made my heart race. It would have been easy to believe that what happened in the graveyard had all just been a nightmare, but I knew in my heart it hadn't been. Back in the graveyard, I'd been covered in cuts and contusions from the maze, but those were all gone, too. Even the little childhood scar I'd gained running from Dudley during a game of Harry hunting was gone, the skin milky white and smooth. On instinct I raised my hand to my forehead, running my fingers towards the jagged bump of skin that I knew was my lightning bolt scar.</p>
<p>It was gone, and it made me more miserable than I'd have ever thought possible.</p>
<p>I should've been ecstatic. It had hounded me my entire life—had marked me as something that I never wanted to be, and now I was finally rid of it. That fact was <em>deeply</em> troubling. I'd always been told it was impossible to remove, and now my last memory was getting hit with the killing curse, and then waking up with it gone.</p>
<p>It was difficult to stand—not because of any physical injuries or limitations, rather because a huge part of me wanted to stay where I was and pretend none of this was happening. It took every ounce of courage I had to climb to my feet and stretch the stiffness out of my limbs. Staying here, wherever the hell <em>here</em> even was, wouldn't make that I was probably dead any less true. Besides, I knew nothing for certain. Maybe by going forward I'd be able to find a way out and back to my life at Hogwarts.</p>
<p>I wasn't hopeful.</p>
<p>I'd woken in a small, walled courtyard, with a blooming tree of white bark and golden leaves sitting in the corner. I could hear the sounds of a city beyond the wall, the general noise of moving traffic and sirens off in the distance. The acrid smell of smoke and burnt coffee hung heavy on the air.</p>
<p>On the opposite side of the courtyard was the entrance to a tall townhouse built with white limestone and lined with gray, and aged but simultaneously somehow elegant and beautiful. On its dark heavy wooden doors were affixed two life-sized wolf's head door knockers. There were symbols etched into the stone arch around the door—none of which I recognized. Above them in golden script were the letters HV.</p>
<p>I felt a little like Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz. I was definitely not in Scotland anymore.</p>
<p>But I'd never backed down from a mystery before, and there was no way out of the courtyard other than the double doors into the building, so I really had no choice but to enter. I pushed at the doors, but they were massive, heavy and locked up tight. Hesitantly, I lifted the giant door knocker and smacked it into the heavy wood.</p>
<p>I was only waiting for about ten seconds before the doors opened in a spill of golden light, revealing a man with a heavy scowl. He looked a little like Hagrid, minus the giant-blooded size, with a mane of unruly brown hair and a long, untamed beard that stretched halfway down his torso. Very different from Hagrid though, this man had bloodshot blue eyes that held a hint of danger… or perhaps that impression came from the massive battle axe strapped across his back. He might've looked incredibly menacing, were it not for the top hat, white gloves and long green coat with tails he wore.</p>
<p>The man blinked in confusion, looking straight over my head to the courtyard beyond. After a moment, his gaze shifted down, finally meeting my eyes with his own. This wasn't hugely surprising. Even for a fourteen-year-old, I didn't stand at a great height, and he was rather tall.</p>
<p>"Oh, it's you," he said, nodding like it was no surprise at all to see me. "We thought you'd have woken up yesterday, but apparently you sleep like the dead."</p>
<p>He laughed, just a chuckle at first, then more uproariously. He gave my shoulder a quick punch—hard enough to nearly knock me onto my ass, I might add—cackling like he'd just made up the greatest joke since 'why did the chicken cross the road.'</p>
<p>"Get it? Because you're…" he continued to laugh.</p>
<p>I didn't. I rubbed my shoulder tenderly, sure I was going to have a fist sized bruise forming there before long.</p>
<p>His laughter stopped as suddenly as it had begun, and he shot me a strange, offended sort of look. "I guess that's not as funny without the punchline." The man cleared his throat and straightened the collar of his fancy green coat as if to present himself more professionally, though really I think that ship had already sailed. "Congratulations, you're dead!"</p>
<p>Well, that <em>was</em> a hell of a punchline. Still, I wasn't sure his joke was all that funny.</p>
<p>Even if it was the only real conclusion I'd arrived at, it still felt like my heart had turned to lead and sank into my stomach. It's definitely not what I wanted to hear. It wasn't even the fact that I was dead, either. I mean, yeah, hearing that you're dead is <em>rarely</em> good news, but more important were the people, and the duty that I'd left behind. It couldn't have happened at a worse time. I'd always felt like Voldemort was my responsibility, and now everyone else was going to suffer because of my failure. Tears filled my eyes at the thought of Hermione, Ron and the rest of my friends and family struggling against a revived Voldemort without me.</p>
<p>This man though seemed completely oblivious to my struggle and was clearly more concerned with his own issues. He stared into space, scowling like he'd forgotten something important.</p>
<p>"That's not right…" he muttered quietly to himself. "Ah-ha!" he eventually cried out in triumph, clicking his fingers in victory. "What I should have said is—Congratulations, you're now part of Odin's honored dead. Welcome to Hotel Valhalla!"</p>
<p><em>Honored dead? Valhalla? </em>The man might as well have been speaking Urdu for all that I understood him.</p>
<p>He finally seemed to cotton on to the fact that I was struggling with this new revelation, and clapped a heavy hand onto my shoulder, making me feel like a nail and his hand the hammer. "Don't look so glum, chum! As the afterlife goes, Valhalla is as good as it gets! We have a five star rating on Yelp, you know!"</p>
<p>"Oh, really? I feel better already," I said dryly, though really it came out as more of a sob.</p>
<p>Helgi let out a deep belly laugh. "So surly for such a little guy!" he said, nodding in approval, apparently believing his words and tone complimentary. "My name is Hunding."</p>
<p>"Harry," I introduced myself miserably, stifling a sniffle.</p>
<p>Hunding stepped to my side and curled a tree trunk sized arm around my shoulders. "Well, young Harry, let me show you to check-in." With a gentle shove from the arm around my back, Hunding led me inside.</p>
<p>It was immediately comforting to know that my afterlife wouldn't be completely devoid of magic. The inside of the hotel was very much larger than the outside, which probably unsettled some muggles who might pass through, but I admit made a wizard like myself far more comfortable. It reminded me of the Weasley tent from the Quidditch world cup, and then immediately felt a pang of sadness. Wherever I'd ended up, the Weasleys were now impossibly far away.</p>
<p>The foyer itself was grand and opulent, but in a way that made my heart threaten to bash against my ribcage. Almost every inch of floor space was covered in animal skins of all shapes and sizes, and a gargantuan stuffed wolf's head hung over the check-in desk. The wall was lined with a myriad weapons—giant two-handed swords, several ornate looking spears, even a couple of grenades piled together on a shelf in the corner. Given those and the battleaxe strapped to Hunding's back, I had to wonder just where the hell I'd ended up.</p>
<p>It was the most contradictory room I'd ever entered in my entire life, though I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised, considering the fact that my life was now over. I should probably have assumed that any logic that might be 'normal' in life may not apply in death. But even with the rules thrown out the window, trying to combine the two decors that Valhalla's foyer did should have been any interior decorator's greatest nightmare.</p>
<p>The ornate mahogany check-in desk and Hunding's service uniform wouldn't have been out of place in any of the best five-star hotels in the world, but all the weapons hanging on the walls and the animal skins lining the floor were the observational equivalent of having Gerard Butler scream 'This is Sparta!' right into my eardrums.</p>
<p>Next to me, Hunding grunted loudly. "Where is that oaf Helgi? He's meant to be here to check-in everyone who comes in from the Grove of Glasir! If I was running this place—" he cut himself off with a squeak as a head rose from behind the check-in desk. At that moment, Hunding looked nothing more than a deer in a set of headlights. Clearly, the man behind the desk was the aforementioned Helgi.</p>
<p>"No, no, keep going," Helgi said, his eyebrows drawn together in a frown. "I'd love to hear your opinions on my management style."</p>
<p>Looking at Helgi, I found it easy to understand why Hunding suddenly seemed like a rabbit in front of a wolf. Helgi was big and broad, and apparently the afterlife was fresh out of razors, because his beard was longer and more wild than probably Hunding's and Hagrid's combined. He wore a green pinstripe suit, with a symbol of two axes crossing at the haft emblazoned over his breast pocket. Beyond his dark beard, his face looked tight and stern, eerily reminiscent of McGonagall—not exactly a woman one could compare to if they were all warmth and cuddles.</p>
<p>"I… Uhh…" Hunding stammered. A glare that could easily have matched a basilisk's quickly silenced him.</p>
<p>"We're with a guest, Hunding, pull yourself together. Or do I have to get the stick?"</p>
<p>Hunding bowed, but it was stiff and lacked any genuine respect. Still, his voice was a combination of mild fear and obedience when he spoke. "No, Helgi. I'll do better." I couldn't blame him for backing down. I didn't want Helgi to 'get the stick,' either.</p>
<p>In less time than it took me to blink, Helgi was like a different person altogether. His icy anger dissipated, and his features softened when he finally turned his gaze on me, though I admit I still didn't quite feel comforted. Hard to trust a man who would treat his own staff like slaves. If I weren't so consumed with my own untimely demise, maybe I'd have stood up to him. Then again, Helgi looked like the kind of guy who might enjoy wrestling a polar bear in his underwear, so maybe not.</p>
<p>"Welcome to Hotel Valhalla. I am the manager, Helgi." He reached for a stack of papers nearby and took a single sheet before handing it to me to read. I didn't have the heart to tell him about my Dyslexia.</p>
<p>Isn't that a kick in the teeth? I suffered with the condition all my life, getting tormented by Dudley and his friends, and later Draco and his friends, only to still have it even after death. Just like in life though, half the sentences sounded like gibberish as I read them, the letters floating around on the page like alphabet soup. Turns out even death wasn't enough to fix my stupid, broken brain.</p>
<p>"Here's this week's event schedule," Helgi said, smiling widely and revealing only three teeth. "Make sure not to miss tomorrow's art class to the death!"</p>
<p>For a moment I fully believed he was making a joke, but there was no smirk on his face, just a professional smile—not even the ghost of a laugh reflected in his eyes.</p>
<p>To the death? What the hell is this place?</p>
<p>"So I'm really… really dead," I said, sighing heavily. I swallowed down another pathetic sob.</p>
<p>Behind the desk, Helgi frowned and let out a sigh to match my own, though honestly I feel like I had much more reason than him to be upset. "You know, people used to be thrilled to be welcomed to Hotel Valhalla! Now all I get is people whining to get back to life. You know this is an honor, right?"</p>
<p>"Oh yeah, I feel really honored. A five star rating on yelp, you said?" I couldn't help the dry sarcasm that escaped my mouth.</p>
<p>"That's the spirit!" Helgi said brightly, either ignoring the way it was said or missing it altogether.</p>
<p>I shook my head rapidly and tried in vain to blink back tears of frustration. "Look, you don't understand. There's this dark wizard, and if I don't stop him, he'll—"</p>
<p>Helgi cut me off with a boisterous laugh. "Oh, you want to go back and face your enemy a second time? You're gonna do great here. But your dark wizard is the concern of the living, now. No second chances."</p>
<p>Worth a try. I never expected to be allowed to go back, not really. I'd already cheated death more times than I could count, and people don't just get to come back from the dead. My parents were proof of that.</p>
<p>"Anyway, you've got a suite on floor nineteen, and here's your runestone key. Have a great stay here in Hotel Valhalla!" With that out of the way, Helgi completely tore his attention away from me, as if I'd suddenly turned invisible and ceased to be of any significance at all.</p>
<p>Before I could ask more questions, Hunding grabbed my runestone key off the bench and collected me by the arm, dragging me away and towards an elevator on the far side of the foyer. "So, floor nineteen, huh? Good floormates you've got. I think it might just be your lucky day!"</p>
<p>I scoffed. Hunding's carefree attitude about my death was really starting to grate on the nerves. Anybody would think that death is the greatest thing that can happen to a person. I still wasn't sold on the idea, funnily enough.</p>
<p>"Strange kind of luck," I muttered. "I'd just be happy if someone could explain where the hell I am right now."</p>
<p>Hunding raised a bushy eyebrow in disbelief. "Hotel Valhalla," he repeated seriously, as though that should hold great meaning to me or something. I shrugged my shoulders, and Hunding let out a loud sigh. "Don't they teach kids anything these days? Valhalla, Hall of the Heroic Dead? Ruled over by Odin, the All-Father? Chief of the Aesir Gods?"</p>
<p>I shrugged again, once more not recognizing half the words he was using. My confusion caused Hunding to mutter quietly to himself in a language I didn't recognize. He reached down, almost right to the floor, and pressed one of the many thousands of buttons on the wall. It wasn't until then I noticed just how many buttons there <em>were</em>. They covered the entire left wall of the elevator, from wall to wall and floor to roof. The highest number was floor five hundred and forty, right in the top corner. Even accounting for wizard-space, that was utterly ridiculous.</p>
<p>"Five hundred and forty floors? That's impossible!"</p>
<p>Before Hunding could answer the elevator stopped, though according to the light above the door we were only on level three. The doors opened wide to reveal a young blonde teen with shoulder length hair and cloudy gray eyes. He was probably only a couple of years older than me, pale and slim, though probably about a foot taller-not that he was tall, I just happened to be rather short.</p>
<p>"Magnus!" Hunding exclaimed loudly, beckoning him into the elevator with swinging arms like the whomping willow and damn near knocking me unconscious. "Great timing! How's my favorite son of Frey doing?"</p>
<p>The boy, Magnus, blinked his eyes once before joining us in the elevator. "Do you actually <em>know</em> any other sons of Frey?" he asked with an American accent. "Aren't most of them in Volkswagen?"</p>
<p>"I think you mean <em>Folkvanger</em>," Hunding pointed out. I stayed silent. For people speaking English, I sure was hearing a whole lot of crazy talk.</p>
<p>Magnus shot him a look as if to say 'what's the difference?'</p>
<p>"But yes they are, and I don't," Hunding confessed under his breath. "But I can still have a favorite! I mean, you did defeat Loki in a flyting to prevent Ragnarok! How many sons of Frey can say <em>that?</em>"</p>
<p>Hunding made it sound like a big deal, but I still didn't know what the hell they were talking about.</p>
<p>Magnus tilted his head slightly and narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "You need something, don't you? Did you upset Helgi again?"</p>
<p>Hunding laughed. "Ahh Magnus, so suspicious! But while we're on the topic of favors, do you think you could take Harry to his room? He's on floor nineteen too."</p>
<p>For the first time since stepping into the elevator, the boy, Magnus, finally set his eyes on me. He gave me a quick look up and down, eyes squinted in barely veiled confusion. I lifted an eyebrow in question.</p>
<p>"Just a little fella, isn't he?" Hunding laughed, giving me a slap on the back and nearly sending me sprawling into the slowly closing elevator door. I caught myself before falling forward, but my back stung from the slap. And wasn't that glorious news, too? Pain in the afterlife! So far, being dead was proving to be every bit as crap as being alive. If I was<em> really</em> lucky, my room on floor nineteen would even end up being a cupboard under some stairs!</p>
<p>"How old are you?" Magnus asked quietly.</p>
<p>I didn't really see how that mattered at all, but didn't see the harm in answering. "Fourteen," I answered, dipping my head down so I didn't have to look either of them in the eye. I didn't like admitting it out loud. Even if I was never destined to live a long and peaceful life due to my connection with Voldemort, dying at fourteen was a bit ridiculous. I didn't even get to experience life out of school for Merlin's sake.</p>
<p>Magnus looked pained for a moment, his face screwing up in sympathy. "Aw, man, I'm sorry."</p>
<p>
  <em>Sorry?</em>
</p>
<p>I looked up to meet his eyes in shock. Sure, he was only the third person I'd met since my death, but so far he was the only one to act like dying was a <em>bad</em> thing. It was weirdly comforting. More than that, though, I belatedly realized that he was dressed normally—like an actual teenager and not a green-suited concierge with a battleaxe and a beard like Grizzly Adams. He was wearing a hoodie and jeans and looked like he genuinely belonged in them. Just a normal guy, especially comforting against the giant form of the well dressed but poorly groomed Hunding.</p>
<p>"So, can you help me out?" Hunding spoke up.</p>
<p>"Yeah, man. Do what you gotta do," Magnus waved him away looking like he wanted to roll his eyes but somehow resisting.</p>
<p>Hunding grinned, tossed Magnus Harry's runestone key and hit the open door button for the elevator. He stepped out, so quick it was like he wanted to get out before Magnus could change his mind. "Thanks, Beantown!"</p>
<p>"Oi! No! I will not be Beantown!" Magnus cried out the door after Hunding before it slowly slid shut again. It left the elevator in an awkward silence. I was the one to break it. I had too many questions that needed answers, and unlike Hunding or Helgi, Magnus seemed like someone who wasn't completely insane. I also wanted to know what the hell Beantown meant, but under the circumstances it probably wasn't the most pertinent question to ask.</p>
<p>"So, you're dead too?" I asked.</p>
<p>Magnus shrugged and nodded. "Yeah. Had my insides melted by an evil fire giant. You?" It sounded weird to be comparing notes about our respective deaths, but again it was probably something I was going to have to get used to. It was probably a common question in the afterlife, after all.</p>
<p>"Murdered by an evil wizard."</p>
<p>Magnus shot me a look of sympathy. "Bummer," he said. He didn't seem at all concerned about the wizard part of the equation. Then again, given that he'd been killed by a fire giant—something I hadn't even heard of in the wizarding world—so that should not have been surprising. The Statute of Secrecy was for the living, and I was, sadly, dead.</p>
<p>The elevator returned to silence for another several uncomfortable moments.</p>
<p>"So, how are you doing? I know this place can be a bit…"</p>
<p><em>Crazy? Insane? Deranged?</em> The words sprung into my mind, but I didn't voice them. I shrugged my shoulders.</p>
<p>"But hey, I promise you, this place isn't so bad. Don't let Helgi and Hunding's 'great glory in death,' stuff color your opinion, okay?" Magnus said, laying a comforting hand on my shoulder. "Vikings like them have been here for like a thousand years, so they're a little… out of touch."</p>
<p>
  <em>I'll say.</em>
</p>
<p>"But there are loads of cool people here. And we're on the same floor too, so that's good. Our floormates were pretty welcoming when I showed up, don't worry."</p>
<p>Being told not to worry about my being dead and not to worry about potential friends in the afterlife was about as pointless as telling the sky not to be blue, but Magnus was clearly trying to be nice so I smiled nervously and nodded. He looked as uncomfortable trying to welcome me as I felt being welcomed.</p>
<p>The elevator doors slid open to floor nineteen. The hallway beyond looked like any hotel hallway, albeit a really nice five-star one, with doors on both sides and decorated with long, lavish rugs and the occasional portrait or artwork on the wall. I could hear boisterous laughter coming from our right.</p>
<p>"That must be the rest of the floor having lunch," Magnus said. "Come on, I'll introduce you." He stepped out of the elevator, beckoning for me to follow.</p>
<p>"Wait, just hang on a second," I said, pinching the bridge of my nose to quell the headache that had been growing ever since I woke up. "I just… where the hell are we? Am I stuck here forever? Who the hell is Odin and why am I 'honored dead?'" I couldn't help the questions that erupted out my mouth. Of all the times I'd thought about the afterlife, I'd imagined something totally different. Arriving at golden gates up in the clouds with angels playing harps or something. Not crazy vikings with no teeth and grenades piled in the corner of a hotel foyer.</p>
<p>
  <em>And I'd reunite with my parents…</em>
</p>
<p>"Man…" Magnus ran a hand through his blonde hair. "I wish I was the best guy to ask these questions… but I'm really not. I only found out about all this stuff like a year ago. Some of these people I can introduce to you have been here for hundreds of years. They'll do a better job of explaining stuff than I would." Guilt lined his voice.</p>
<p>Magnus turned and began walking down the hall. Impatient for answers and getting more frustrated by the second, I stepped after him. "How about just the basics, then?"</p>
<p>Magnus twisted his lip as if thinking for an answer that would appropriately sum up the situation I'd found myself in. "The basics… I guess—You've been chosen to come to Valhalla because you died heroically and a Valkyrie brought you here to join Odin's army of einherjar to fight at the end of the world at Ragnarok."</p>
<p><em>That's the basics?</em> I blinked at him. While he was definitely speaking English, it was still mostly gibberish.</p>
<p>"Maybe I should wait for someone else to explain," I admitted. Magnus nodded apologetically.</p>
<p>As we headed further down the hall, the laughter and sound of conversation grew louder until the hallway opened up to a lounge area about the size of the Gryffindor common room at Hogwarts. It had several plush and comfortable looking recliners, a row of polished wooden tables and chairs, and a hearth at the far end with a long couch. There were two small groups of people in the room, about four people sitting at the table closest to Magnus and I, and a smaller group of three at the other end sitting on the couch in front of the hearth.</p>
<p>But it wasn't the room, the furniture or even its inhabitants that was drawing my attention. There were large windows on the opposite wall, and what I could see outside made absolutely zero sense. Even from the other side of the room, all I could make out from beyond was a fiery, hellish landscape. Flames licked at the glass windows, but nobody inside seemed at all concerned. The view from the windows cast a foreboding orange glow over the room and its inhabitants.</p>
<p>"That's Muspelheim," Magnus answered the question I didn't have to ask. "The windows of Hotel Valhalla cycle through the nine worlds. Yesterday it was Alfheim. I had to bring my Ray-Bans just to keep from going blind."</p>
<p>Magnus seemed nice, but his explanations really were horrible. I was getting more confused with every word he uttered. From the apologetic look on his face, he knew it.</p>
<p>"Magnus!" a booming voice sounded from the nearby table. The man greeting Magnus stood from his seat, allowing me to get a better look at the wild, untamed mass of his red tinged hair and beard. His arms were thick like tree trunks, but he had a kind smile and joy in his eyes that made him seem approachable rather than threatening. It was hard to tell behind the thick beard and bushy hair, but I guessed he was about twenty years old—or at least had been that old when he died.</p>
<p>"Who's the little guy?" the girl next to him asked in a thick Irish accent. She had green eyes, a reddish face, and frizzy red curls that fell down her back. She was like the real-life version of Princess Merida from the movie 'Brave.'</p>
<p>"We've got a new floormate," Magnus declared with a grin, putting a hand on my shoulder as if holding me before his friends for inspection.</p>
<p>Before I got a chance to greet any of them, a single voice cut across the room. It wasn't loud or harsh, and under other circumstances I might not even heard it at all. But this was a voice I had heard before, even if I couldn't properly remember where. It cut straight through to my soul like a hot knife through butter.</p>
<p>"Harry?"</p>
<p>My head snapped up past Magnus' friends and towards the other end of the room. He'd been sitting with his back to me beforehand, but now he was standing up and facing me directly, his hazel eyes boring into mine with laser-like focus. He wasn't wearing his glasses like in every picture I had of him, but I'd have recognized him even if his skin had turned green and he'd lost all his hair.</p>
<p>"Dad?"</p>
<p>I took a single step closer, my heart thumping against my ribs. I'd dreamt of this moment for as long as I could remember. Hoped against hope that the afterlife was real and I would get the chance to reunite with the people who gave their lives for me. Dying sucked, but maybe it didn't <em>have </em>to be such a bad thing.</p>
<p>"Hey James, heads up!"</p>
<p>What happened next seemed to happen in both hyper speed and slow motion. A spear came hurtling from the hallway beyond and impaled into James Potter's chest. He dropped to the ground in a slowly growing pool of his own blood, dead.</p>
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